local_library Untitled # 1

by Burt Adsit

Published in Issue No. 5 ~ October, 1996

I saw the face of joy
as my son and I ran
after the ball that rolled
past my guard. He screaming
and laughing, I roaring
and pounding closer
to the two of them.
A lovingly repeated game
that always ends
with a small win.
He clutched his success
in two hands and grinned.
Not at me but
outward at it all.
The green park grass,
the dark park trees,
his shining victory.
He was gone from me.
I waited
smiling for his return.

account_box More About

Burt Adsit is a programmer, "dry and logical. Good at it too." In his own words: "The emotions arrive as words. It's confusing. I think that the style of words, their rhythmic nature, how they relate to one another within the 'poemlet' appeal to me the most."